Closet Space
by Eileen
Summary: What is it with women and closet space? Plenty, when the woman in question is . . . sorry, to say more would be to give it away.


CLOSET SPACE

"And this is the master bedroom," the real-estate agent said. She proudly pushed open the door and escorted Sarah and Kyle inside. "As you can see, it has a bay window, private bath, and—" She crossed the room to another door and opened it—"a walk-in closet with extra shoe space."

Sarah examined the closet while Kyle looked on. They had made some compromises when they started house-hunting, but the one thing she would not back down on was plenty of closet space in the bedroom. She was funny about closets. It didn't matter if there wasn't another closet in the house; there **had ** to be one in the bedroom, and a good-sized one at that. What was it with women and closet space?

"I'll be waiting downstairs," the agent said, and left them alone.

"Well, what do you think?" Kyle asked his wife of three months. 

She was staring into the closet as if waiting for a bus.

"Hon?"

"What?" Startled, she turned around and faced him.

"Do you like it?"

She took one last look at the inside of the walk-in closet before stepping out and shutting the door a little too firmly. "It's not big enough," she said.

"Not big enough? How big does it have to be?"

"I'll know it when I see it."

"That's what you keep saying!" Kyle threw his hands in the air. "How many houses have we seen in the past six months?"

"Too many."

"Yes. Exactly. I liked the one in Malden."

"The first one we looked at? You told me not to get my heart set on the first one we looked at!"

"It was a nice house! Beautiful neighborhood, nice big family room, even a downstairs game room. But **you **didn't want it because the bedroom closet wasn't big enough!"

"I couldn't even turn around in there!" Honestly, what was it with men? They just didn't understand.

"And the condo unit in Revere? What was wrong with that? Other than the lack of closet space on the second floor?"

Sarah looked him square in the eye. "I told you I needed a big closet. You knew that when we started this whole business!"

"Yes, but we have to make sacrifices! Do you remember the list we made, of all the features we wanted in our dream house? How many we had to cross off to stay within our price range? Why won't you give in on the closet thing?"

Sarah didn't say anything for a long time. Then she said, "Promise you won't laugh?"

"At what?" Now Kyle was really confused.

"Well . . . when I was little, I had an imaginary friend who lived in the closet."

"So? All kids have imaginary friends."

"Not like mine."

"And he lived in the closet."

"No . . . not in the closet." Sarah was remembering now, things she thought she had forgotten years ago. "He came **through** the closet, from somewhere else. It was big and shiny and lots of funny-looking things lived there."

"Uh huh." Kyle had promised not to laugh, but this sounded funny. Things that came through the closet from a big shiny place?

"I know, kids and their imaginations, huh? It seems silly now, but for years I left the closet door open, in case he came back."

"And he never did?"

"Well, you know . . . kids grow up. Your imaginary friend gets locked away in a trunk with your first baby tooth and your first day at school. I can't even remember what he looked like. Only that he was big."

"And . . . that's why you need a closet big enough for him to fit into?" 

Sarah sighed. "I'm sorry. It does sound silly when you put it like that, doesn't it? Like in some subconscious way, I'm still waiting for him to come back."

"Speaking of waiting," Kyle said, looking at his watch, "Mrs. Levasseur is still waiting downstairs for us. What should we tell her?"

Sarah looked at the closet door one last time. "You're right," she said. "The house is perfect. I shouldn't let my little childhood hang-up get in the way of our happiness."

"I didn't mean to ride you about it," he said. "Let's go sign some papers."

Hand in hand, they left the room in silence.

For a moment.

The closet door creaked open a crack. There was a flash of blue fur, and behind it, a glimpse of a place that looked big and shiny.

A voice whispered, "Boo?"

Then the door swung shut.

Some childhood memories never go away. They just take a while to track you down again.


End file.
